


Burnt

by thingslikememories



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Kiyoomi doesn't have germaphobia, Kiyoomi is a college student, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, No big fires it's just enough to set off the fire alarm, Porn With Plot, Probably inaccurate depiction of fire department protocol, Questionable fire science, Slight Verbal Humiliation, Spanking, The rest of MSBY are firefighters, Top Miya Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingslikememories/pseuds/thingslikememories
Summary: Firefighter AU where Atsumu is the hot neighborhood fireman and Kiyoomi is a horny college student who just wants to get railed and is willing to literally set the world on fire to get Atsumu to do just that.Aka: Kiyoomi starts 3 fires to get fireman Atsumu to ~punish~ him
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 366





	Burnt

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fireman AU I was screaming about on [my twitter](https://twitter.com/thingslikemmrs).
> 
> Also this is not meant to be taken seriously! Do not start fires to try to seduce your local hot firemen!!
> 
> CW: Alcohol (Kiyoomi is drunk in the first scene but when they have sex they're both sober and there's clear verbal consent!)

The first fire Kiyoomi starts is an accident.

He hadn’t even wanted to buy the stupid hair straightener in the first place. He’s perfectly happy with his curls - likes the way they frame and accentuate his dark eyes, _loves_ the way people twist their fingers into them and yank his head back as they fuck him into the mattress of his tiny twin bed in his shitty little dorm bedroom.

The benefits are manifold.

But as the Halloween weekend rolled around, some of his friends suggested that they go out clubbing as 2006 MySpace emos. Kiyoomi had no idea what the hell that meant, and to be honest, he still isn’t quite sure. But after incessant badgering from Komori, he finally caved, bought the straightener, smudged on some eyeliner, squeezed into a black t-shirt that was three sizes too small, and climbed begrudgingly into the cab with his friends.

His straightened hair did not last long in the cramped club filled with the heat and humidity of hundreds of horny underdressed young adults, which, there had to be a gay joke in there somewhere, Kiyoomi was sure. The alcohol coursing through his system was just making it a little hard to verbalize.

But as it turns out, the failure of the hair straightener to tame his curls is only the start of Kiyoomi’s problems with the cursed thing, because as soon as he emerges from the stairwell of the dorm building onto his floor, drunk and exhausted, he hears the blaring of a fire alarm sounding from the distance. And as he stumbles down the hall towards his apartment, he notices the faint smell of smoke coming from right under his door.

He jams his keys into the lock in a hazy panic and throws open the door, only to be smacked in the face with a cloud of smoke and the sound of his fire alarm screeching bloody murder. He runs throughout his house, searching for the source of the smoke, and finally finds the hair straightener still plugged into the wall in the bathroom, sizzling as its cheap plastic handle melts onto the bathroom rug, tiny sparks of flames curling its embroidered edges.

Without thinking, he grabs the plug, intending to yank it out the wall, only to jerk his hand away with a pained yelp as he realizes it’s blistering hot. Cursing, he wraps his hand around a towel, unplugs the ruined straightener, and uses the towel to beat out the tiny fires on his bathroom floor. As the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins dwindles, Kiyoomi’s ears are once again assaulted by the sound of the fire alarm seemingly rocking his entire apartment.

Or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

Kiyoomi’s addled brain functions enough to get him to pull out his phone. But instead of dialing any of the emergency numbers that have been drilled into his brain since he’s been able to comprehend words, Kiyoomi texts his cousin, who has by now stumbled back to his own apartment a few floors below.

**Kiyoomi**

_fuk motya my haiur straightnr set on fier_

_the smokw alram is going of waht do i do_

**Motoya**

_holy fcuk r u ok_

_??? idk go turn it off mayb??_

Kiyoomi grabs a chair from under his dining table and drags it, wooden legs squeaking irritatingly against the floor, to the center of the room right underneath the smoke alarm. He climbs up and tries to reach towards the ceiling, but instantly topples over and lands hard on his elbows and ass.

And then Kiyoomi just lies there on his living room floor, begging every deity he can remember to just make the noise stop as he tries very hard to not throw up all over his dumb fucking outfit.

Atsumu is dozing off at the dining table in the rec room when they get the call from the monitoring station.

“Single alarm at the dorm,” Meian calls out to the room as he hangs up.

“Ughh,” Atsumu groans into the crook of his elbow. He’s reaching the 22nd hour of his shift, and he’s getting to the point where no matter how much caffeine he dunks into his system, his eyelids still keep slipping shut.

“Move your ass, Miya.”

“Ughhhh,” Atsumu groans again with added vigor, even as he pushes himself up out of his chair and strides into the apparatus bay, trailing after Bokuto and Hinata who are already pulling on their gear.

Atsumu has only had four months on the job, and the fire department has already gotten more calls like this than Atsumu could count just from that one particular apartment complex down the block - the dorm building for the city university. And every single time, it turns out to just be some dumbass freshman who’s trying to learn how to cook for the first time and ends up burning their shitty pasta, or some asshole kid who couldn’t bother walking a few steps out the building to light up.

And god, Atsumu is so tired.

“Do I really have to put on the fuckin’ suit?” He grumbles to no one in particular.

“Yes, Atsumu-san! You should always be prepared for an emergency,” Hinata chirps from where he’s almost finished gearing up already.

“Shoyou-kun, ya know as well as I do that it’s not gonna to be a real emergency. That’s why Meian-san’s only dispatchin’ the three of us scrubs.”

“Hey! Who are you calling a scrub? You oughta watch your mouth, rookie.” Bokuto yells heartily from where he’s climbing into the driver’s seat of the engine.

“Come on, Atsumu-san! We need to leave now, somebody needs our help!”

Atsumu slips on the rest of his gear begrudgingly, and reconsiders his career decisions for the thousandth time as he climbs into the engine and they roll out into the night.

Five minutes later, standing in the doorway of the apartment looking at the figure splayed out across the living room floor, Atsumu instantly has his prior suspicions of a false alarm confirmed.

“Oh my god, is he dead?” Hinata shrieks from behind Atsumu, voice dampened over the sound of the fire alarm. He rushes into the room just as the figure sits up and whirls around, looking at them with wide eyes.

Atsumu’s breath catches, even as his annoyance at getting dispatched to another false alarm at this college dorm still compels him to bite out, “No, Shoyou-kun. He’s just fuckin’ zooted.”

Atsumu eyes the guy as he climbs shakily on to his feet. He’s pretty. Atsumu can tell even with his atrocious outfit, smudged eyeliner, and messy cloud of curly hair. Fuck, okay. Maybe it’s _because_ of all that that Atsumu’s heart is thudding unsteadily in his chest. A fleeting thought crosses Atsumu’s mind that the guy looks like he just got _fucked_ with his flushed cheeks and glossy eyes, and Atsumu has to mentally slap himself back into a proper workplace attitude.

He strides across the room to the fire alarm while Hinata buzzes around the guy, barraging him with questions about whether he’s okay and if he’s hurt anywhere. As Atsumu finally turns off the fire alarm, Bokuto emerges from the bathroom, holding a melted hair straightener wrapped in a towel.

“Fire had been put out already. But I think I found the culprit.” He sets it on the dining table, then calls over his shoulder as he heads for the door, “We’ll leave you to it then, Tsum-Tsum. Come on, Hinata.”

Being the rookie, Atsumu is always the one left to debrief fire-starters. After all, it is their duty as firefighters to also educate the public on fire safety, which is apparently something that this particular _delinquent_ standing a few feet in front of him has absolutely no conception of.

“Alright.” Atsumu puts his hands on his hips after Bokuto and Hinata have left, trying to level a stern look at the guy even though he has a few inches on Atsumu. “Listen up, _kid_.”

Kiyoomi blinks blearily. A lot of things have happened very quickly in the last few minutes, and frankly, he’s been struggling to keep up since three firefighters decked out in full gear suddenly barged into his apartment.

But what the one standing in front of him just said snaps him slightly back to reality. _“Kid”?_ This guy is probably older than Kiyoomi by one or two years at most, judging from what Kiyoomi can see of him through the shield of his helmet. Kiyoomi knows he fucked up with the hair straightener, but he’ll be damned if he lets anyone talk to him like this self righteous bastard.

“It’s Kiyoomi to you.”

The fireman barks out a loud laugh and tugs off his helmet. “Okay, _Omi-kun_. Really don’t think yer in the position to be lecturin’ me right now.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes narrow at the unwarranted nickname and the juvenile honorific, even as he feels his heart lurch in his chest. The fireman is _hot_. There’s no two ways about it. He’s got wavy, bleached golden hair, thick eyebrows, and a devastating smirk that makes Kiyoomi flush despite himself. He tries to convince himself it has nothing to do with _this_ particular man though. It’s not like he hasn’t had fantasies about firefighters in the past - everyone has. They’re already objectively hot purely due to the nature of their profession. Rescuing people from burning buildings, saving kittens from tall trees, and doing it all while driving around in big trucks - what could be more sexy than that?

So it’s understandable that Kiyoomi is getting more and more flustered the longer this fireman stares at him with those hooded golden eyes. Kiyoomi opens and closes his mouth, struggling to come up with a clever retort. Horrified, he starts to feel a familiar heat gather between his legs, which only grows as the fireman tilts his chin up at him and examines him with an arched brow.

“Hm. Coulda sworn it was drugs. Guess not. Why do ya have a hair straightener, though? Ya got a girl livin’ with ya or somethin’?”

Kiyoomi’s throat feels raspy as he finds his voice again. “No. It’s mine. Or at least,” He looks down solemnly at the melted corpse of the hair straightener lying on his dining table, “It was.”

The fireman clears his throat. “Okay, well, if yer gonna be keepin’ appliances like this around then ya better learn how to take care of ‘em, ya hear? When yer done with it, ya gotta unplug it and…”

And Kiyoomi’s looking straight at the fireman, watching his plushy lips open and close and stretch around syllables, but Kiyoomi’s not really listening to what he’s saying. He’s much too distracted by the inflection of his voice, the unfamiliar rises and falls of the fireman’s Kansai-ben as he lectures Kiyoomi on basic fire safety that children usually learn in kindergarten.

Somehow, the accent makes it all even hotter. Makes _him_ even hotter. And Kiyoomi is now very aware of how tight his already skinny jeans have become. He blames it on the alcohol. Blames it on grinding against strangers for hours in a dark club without a release at the end of the night. Blames it on the fireman’s suit, his helmet, everything that makes him feel as if he’s living out the intro of a kitschy gay porno.

Kiyoomi inches towards the chair still standing in the middle of the room from where he fell earlier, desperate for some way to hide the tent now in his pants. He reaches a hand out to steady himself as he goes to sit down, but winces as his fingers come into contact with the cold wooden surface.

The fireman stops talking instantly and his self-righteous expression turns into one of concern. “Are ya ok? Are ya actually hurt somewhere?”

Kiyoomi uses his good hand to lower himself down as he mutters, “Just burned myself on the plug earlier.”

Atsumu instantly steps towards Kiyoomi, and demands, “Let me see.”

Kiyoomi looks up at him with wide eyes and holds his hand out, surprisingly obedient. The sight makes Atsumu exhale heavily, which he tries to pass off as another cough. Atsumu pulls off his gloves and grips Kiyoomi’s hand gently, examining the small red welts on his fingers and thumb while trying to ignore the way his skin erupts in goose bumps at the contact with Kiyoomi’s skin even under thick layers of protective gear. Atsumu then pulls out a small tub of burn ointment from his utility belt and starts to massage the cool balm into Kiyoomi’s raw burnt skin with small, light circles of his thumb. Atsumu works diligently, keeping his line of sight locked on their joined hands, fearing what Kiyoomi might find in his expression if he were to meet his eye during Atsumu’s ministrations. After wrapping a few band-aids around Kiyoomi’s slim fingers, Atsumu finally looks up at Kiyoomi, and is hit with the same sensation of breathlessness he feels when stepping too close to a burning building without his oxygen mask on.

Kiyoomi’s pupils are shot, his lips are parted, and the blush on his cheeks has now travelled all the way down his neck, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt. His chest is rising and falling heavily, and Atsumu can faintly feel his breath fanning across his cheeks with how close he’s standing.

He can also smell the alcohol on Kiyoomi’s breath.

Atsumu feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over his head as he quickly straightens up and breaks eye contact with Kiyoomi. “I-I need to go back to the others.”

Kiyoomi frowns, but makes no move to stop him, for which Atsumu isn’t sure if he’s grateful.

But when he’s halfway to the door, Atsumu hears the softest voice ring out from behind him. “Hey, um… thanks.”

Atsumu waves over his shoulder, refusing to turn around to see the expression that could accompany a tone like that. “Just doin’ my job!”

***********

The second fire Kiyoomi starts is not intentional, but he does nothing to stop it once it breaks out.

He’s making ramen for dinner in his kitchenette when he smells the smoke. At first he thinks it might be the food, and turns off the stove immediately, stirring through the noodles trying to see if anything is burnt. The ramen is completely fine, so he steps away from the kitchen countertop, and paces through the apartment, trying to follow the smell of smoke.

He ends up in the doorway of his bedroom staring down at the power strip on the floor, to which over half a dozen plugs are connected, mass of cords from different appliances and chargers snaking throughout the room to the lamp on his bedside table, his phone, his laptop… the new vibrator lying next to his pillow. The plug of the charger of which is engulfed in a tiny orange flame.

Like the power strip, Kiyoomi short circuits.

It’s been nearly a week since his hair straightener set on fire. In the meantime, he’s passed by the fire station down the street on a few occasions, perhaps more than _strictly_ necessary, always slowing his footsteps as he nears and straining to see past all the giant engines and trucks, trying to catch a glimpse of the hot fireman who had been sent to his apartment last time.

Who had talked to him like he’s just some dumb kid who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with his life.

Who had held his hand as he rubbed ointment into his burned skin.

Who, Kiyoomi would be lying if he said otherwise, was a large part of the reason why he went out a bought the vibrator in the first place.

And now, as Kiyoomi gazes at the flame on his bedroom floor slowly spreading over the entire power strip, the fire alarm in his living room once again detonates. And this time, he doesn’t have the alcohol to blame, or the aftershocks of highly charged dancefloors.

Kiyoomi is stone cold sober as he goes back to his living room, sits down on the couch, and patiently waits for the fire department to arrive.

Atsumu is on the toilet when they get the call this time.

“Another single alarm at the college dorm!” Meian’s voice rings through the thin wooden bathroom door.

Atsumu growls into the magazine he’s reading, clenched fist twisting the pages.

Kicking open the door and stomping into the rec room, he mutters through gritted teeth, “I swear to fuckin’ god I’m gonna murder those little fuckers if the fire doesn’t get to them first.”

Meian just sends him a warning glare from where he’s now reclined back on the couch, flipping through TV channels.

Atsumu looks only slightly apologetic as he heads into the apparatus bay where Bokuto and Hinata are already geared up and climbing into the engine.

“Come on, Atsumu-san. Duty calls!” Hinata shouts, eager as ever.

A snort from Bokuto, then, “Apparently nature did at the same time.”

Atsumu once again reconsiders his life choices as they roll out the station.

They make Kiyoomi stand in the hall while they put out the fire. They’d rushed past him too fast for Kiyoomi to get a good look, but he’s pretty sure he catches a glimpse of golden hair pressed against a plexiglass shield as he traipses out the front door.

Kiyoomi feels slightly indignant at being exiled from his own home, but the apartment is small, and the hallway even smaller, so Kiyoomi can hear everything the firefighters are saying as they charge into his bedroom.

“Oh my g- is that a-”

“ _Shut up_ , Shoyou-kun.”

Kiyoomi’s heart skips at the familiar inflections of the second voice.

There’s a sharp cackle, then a much louder voice booms, “Have you guys really never seen one of these before? Oh Chibi-chan, I guess Tobio-kun’s just as dull in the sheets as he is in the streets. And Tsum-Tsum, I would’ve thought that _you’d_ definitely have-“

“ _Shut_ _yer trap_ , Bokkun!”

Kiyoomi’s eyebrows lift in tandem with the corners of his mouth.

_Are they all…?_

_Oh this is great._

Kiyoomi hears a long spray of a fire extinguisher, and then, “All right, ya can come back in.”

He steps back into his living room and sees the same three firefighters from last time emerge from his bedroom. The shortest one’s face is bright red, and Kiyoomi has a feeling it’s not just due to the heat of the suit. The tallest one yanks off his helmet, revealing a shock of spiky black and white hair. He points at Kiyoomi, mouth dropping open. “Wait, it’s you again! Are you, like, some sort of arsonist? Or are you just a plain klutz?”

Kiyoomi looks away, cheeks tinging slightly. He’s neither, but he isn’t about to confess to this gigantic firefighter why it is that he doesn’t exactly mind them paying him another visit.

And then finally, the third fireman steps forward and takes off his helmet, and Kiyoomi’s breath catches in his throat when he’s greeted with hooded golden eyes boring straight into his own. His voice is forceful when he speaks, and it sends a shiver down Kiyoomi’s spine.

“First things first, under no circumstances is it _ever_ a good idea to have nearly ten different appliances connected to a single power source. And second,” he steps up to Kiyoomi, holding out his vibrator, still attached to its charger, which is now charred on both ends. “You’re gonna need to replace that.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t break eye contact with the fireman as he takes the vibrator from him, brushing his fingers over his slowly, deliberately. His knuckles are rough, calloused. It makes Kiyoomi’s mouth dry up instantly even as he puts on a nonchalant expression.

They stare at each other, and Kiyoomi almost grins in victory when he sees the fireman’s Adam’s apple lurch in his throat.

But before he could think of a sarcastic, if not a little suggestive comeback, the fireman jerks his hand away, as if burned, and promptly marches out of Kiyoomi’s apartment.

“Wait, hold on, Atsumu-san,” the shortest firefighter - Shoyou, shouts as he runs after him.

 _Atsumu_. Kiyoomi runs the name over in his mind. _Atsu_. It was almost too good to be true.

Kiyoomi smirks to himself, but his face falls again when he realizes that the fireman with the crazy hair is still standing in his living room, now studying Kiyoomi with a curious expression.

“You really ought to be more careful from here on out. It’s dangerous to play with fire,” the fireman chides, expression earnest. Kiyoomi feels slightly embarrassed, but it’s miles away from the burning humiliation he felt when Atsumu was reprimanding him last time.

To be honest, Kiyoomi is a little disappointed.

By the time the last fireman leaves and Kiyoomi makes his way back into the kitchen, his ramen is cold and the noodles have soaked up all the soup, forming a big soggy mess at the bottom of the pot.

He chokes it down with a scowl.

**********

The third fire Kiyoomi starts is not an accident.

To be exact, he actually starts multiple fires, in the form of a dozen tiny scented candles. He places them around his bedroom, then finally sets one down right next to the small fake potted plant on his bedside table. It had been a complimentary item from when he purchased his actual real houseplant that’s sitting snugly beside his couch. The fake plant was an ugly squat thing, colors too bright and polyester leaves frayed at the edges.

And It’s not long before said leaves catch on fire and begin to shrivel. Kiyoomi looks on, a little sad but not too much.

It is, after all, a necessary sacrifice.

Kiyoomi cracks a window, just so the fumes don’t get into his bedsheets. Then, he strolls over to his closet and changes into a nearly see-through sleeveless shirt and tight booty shorts that leave practically nothing to the imagination.

Kiyoomi plops onto his couch and kicks his feet up as the sound of his fire alarm once again shakes the entire building.

They’re all sitting in front of the TV watching a movie when they get the call, and this time, even Meian is annoyed.

“It’s literally been two days since the last one. What the hell are they teaching in that school if not basic fire safety?”

Barnes, who’s been on the job longer than any of them, just sighs and shakes his head, “Every year they get dumber and dumber. It’s hopeless.”

But Atsumu just calmly sets aside his bag of popcorn, stands up, and stretches out his limbs.

“No complaining this time?” Meian peers up at Atsumu.

“‘Course not, Meian-san. This _is_ our job, after all.”

“You’re being sus, Miya.” Inunaki looks over his shoulder from where he’s following Hinata to the apparatus bay, subbing in for Bokuto on his day off.

Atsumu’s mouth drops open, indignant, as he trails after the other two. “Wh-give a guy some credit, why don’t ya? Maybe I’ve just had a change of heart regardin’ my honorable profession.”

Inunaki scoffs as Meian calls after them, “Make sure you give whichever little brat set off the alarm a good talking to. Every time they do this they’re burning taxpayer money.”

“Oh, don’t worry Meian-san. I intend to do just that.” Atsumu maintains a cheery tone as he gears up, even as Inunaki and Hinata throw him weird looks.

Because now, Atsumu knows exactly what’s going on. He’s had a suspicion since their dispatch to the college dorm two days ago, and this time, there’s simply no way it’s a coincidence.

He has a feeling that this is the last time they’re going to be called to the college dorm for a while, though.

When they get to the familiar apartment, Atsumu barges right in without a second thought, even as Hinata shouts excitedly behind him, “Hey Atsumu-san, isn’t this where we were last time? And the time before that?”

“What the hell, this is the third fire in this apartment? Within the span of, what, a week?” Inunaki yells over the sound of the fire alarm flooding from the open door.

“The guy who lives here is a menace.” Atsumu grumbles just as his gaze lands on said menace lounging on his couch without a care in the world in a low cut tank top and the shortest pair of shorts Atsumu has ever seen.

“Fire’s in the back,” Kiyoomi points his thumb to his bedroom while returning Atsumu’s stare. Atsumu stomps into the bedroom and stops in his tracks when he sees the lit candles dotting every open surface.

_This guy’s insane. How has he not burnt this entire fucking building down yet?_

After putting out the burning plant on the beside table, and then giving all the candles in the room a good spritz of the extinguisher as well, Atsumu marches back to the living room and walks right up to the couch, glaring down as Kiyoomi slowly sits up, pink luscious lips pulled into a low smirk.

“What’s happening?” Inunaki hisses to Hinata, long finished with deactivating the fire alarm.

“Um… I’m not really sure. Atsumu-san, shouldn’t we get going now? Our shift’s already over so-”

“Don’t worry, Shoyou-kun. Ya guys go on ahead. I’m gonna hang back and have a little chat with Omi-kun here, because it seems like he hasn’t been listenin’ to anythin’ I’ve been tryin’ to teach him about fire safety over this past week.”

Atsumu watches as Kiyoomi’s eyes widen and a blush explodes all the way down his pale chest.

He hears a squeak from Hinata a groan from Inunaki, followed with a disgusted, “Come on, Shoyou-kun. Let’s get out of here. Fucking knew Miya was planning some shit all along.”

The door slams as Atsumu catches the tail-end of Inunaki’s rant. ““ _Honorable profession”_ my ass.”

Atsumu yanks off his helmet and raises an eyebrow at Kiyoomi.

“Mind tellin’ me why I’ve been called back to your apartment for the third time this week?”

Kiyoomi shrugs, dark eyes trained defiantly on Atsumu’s own. “Guess I’m just a klutz.”

“Do ya know how dangerous it is to have that many candles lit up in such a close proximity?”

Kiyoomi says nothing, but Atsumu can see his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Atsumu’s tone shifts. “Why did ya have yer room set up all sexy like that anyway? Ya got plans for the night?”

“Depends.”

Atsumu huffs out a quick laugh. He pulls off his gloves, and throws them, along with his helmet, on the armchair next to the couch.

“Yer really playin’ hard to get when you’ve mobilized this city’s fire department three times tryin’ to get my attention?”

Kiyoomi’s voice is breathy as he quickly whispers, “The first time was an accident.”

“And the last two weren’t?”

Kiyoomi’s mouth clamps shut. He finally breaks the stare and looks down at where his fingers are twisting into the pillow in his lap. Atsumu notices that even the tips of his ears are red.

Atsumu smiles and goes in for the kill.

“Lightin’ all those candles, settin’ your _vibrator_ on fire. Did you do all that for me, Omi-kun?”

Atsumu hears a tiny whine and Kiyoomi’s fingers dug even harder into the pillow.

“Look at me,” Atsumu starts to unzip the jacket of his suit. Kiyoomi obeys immediately and meets Atsumu’s eye again, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Is that why yer wearin’ those tiny, slutty fuckin’ shorts right now, Omi-kun? Ya want me to fuck you nice and hard? Do what ya can’t do to yourself with that sad little number that went up in flames?”

Kiyoomi gasps as Atsumu shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it on top of his other gear, revealing the tight white t-shirt he’s wearing underneath. The thin cotton hugs his torso, stretching across the rises and dips of washboard abs and swelling pecs.

Kiyoomi doesn’t think he has ever been more turned on. It’s taking all his willpower for him not to grind his hips up into the pillow he’d thankfully had the foresight to pull in his lap when Atsumu had been in his room putting out the fire.

“Answer me, Omi-kun. Is that what ya want?” Kiyoomi startles as Atsumu’s low voice cuts through his daze. Kiyoomi pulls himself together enough to realize that Atsumu is actually waiting for an answer. Waiting for Kiyoomi to give him permission to do… everything he just said he would.

Kiyoomi’s breath comes out in ragged little gasps as he chokes out, “Fuck yeah.”

Atsumu grins, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Hm. But then again, I don’t think it’d be very responsible of me if I were to reward the type of behavior ya’ve displayed so far, wouldn’t ya say?”

Kiyoomi bites down on his lip so far he tastes blood.

“And I don’t think ya quite understand the severity of what ya’ve done. I mean, do ya know how many people get injured - or _worse_ , bein’ as careless around fire as ya’ve been?”

Underneath the shockwaves of arousal surging through his body, Kiyoomi feels a little bit of something resembling guilt. He knows he’s been reckless. Knows that especially today, he’s taken a big risk doing what he did, and that he should be thanking his lucky stars he’s even sitting intact on his couch right now.

But it’s so hard to think about that at the moment. Especially when, instead of making him feel shamed, every single stern word coming out of Atsumu’s mouth is going straight to his crotch

And Atsumu seems to know it too, because when he continues, his tone has shifted again to something a lot lighter, and a lot more suggestive.

“But maybe instead of me standin’ here lecturin’ ya, there’s a better way for me to really help _hammer_ it in, wouldn’t ya agree?”

Kiyoomi nods desperately, all self control evaporated and unable to stop his hips from jerking up against the pillow.

“Take that pillow off of yer lap. Ya went through all that work wrigglin’ into those shorts, why are ya hidin’ them now?”

Kiyoomi whines softly, but does as he’s told. He can feel Atsumu’s gaze searing into him as he places the pillow aside and stretches out his legs. His hands immediately go to rest in his lap, both in an effort to cover the tent in his pants as much as to offer some sort of relief to his throbbing hard-on.

“Uh-uh. None of that.” Atsumu suddenly swoops forward and grabs both of Kiyoomi’s wrists in one hand, raising them a few inches above his crotch. Kiyoomi whines again, this time much louder, at the loss of contact.

“Naughty little brats don’t get to touch themselves until they’ve been punished for their bad behavior.”

“Nghhh…” Kiyoomi can’t seem to control the noises that are bubbling up from his throat now.

“Why don’t ya scoot over a bit so I can sit down?”

Kiyoomi swings his legs off of the couch and Atsumu sits down next to him, hand still clamped firmly around Kiyoomi’s wrists.

“Can ya guess what yer punishment’s gonna be, Omi-kun?” Atsumu glances pointedly at his own lap and then goes back to staring intensely into Kiyoomi’s eyes again.

Kiyoomi shudders, then nods, because _yes_. He does. And the thought of it is so hot Kiyoomi thinks he might combust. Without prompting, he climbs across Atsumu’s lap and lies with his face buried in the crook of his elbow and his ass raised in the air.

Somewhere above him, Kiyoomi hears a sharp intake of breath. “My my, Omi-kun. Didn’t expect ya to be so _eager_ to be punished. If ya keep bein’ a good boy, I might just consider letting ya cum tonight.”

Kiyoomi bites the skin on his forearm, heat surging through his body at both the promise and the praise. He gasps as he feels a steady hand land on the small of his back, roaming around his waist and then trailing all the way up his neck to twist in his hair.

“Now, I haven’t quite decided how many times I’m gonna spank this perky little butt of yers,” Kiyoomi yelps as he suddenly feels a pinch to his right asscheek, but the sound quickly dips into a moan as the same hand then slides under his tank top and curves up to his chest, strong fingers gliding over his ribs and brushing ever so slightly over his nipples.

“Look at me, Omi-kun.” Atsumu lets go of his hair.

Kiyoomi lifts himself up a bit on his elbows, twisting around and craning his neck to look up at Atsumu, whose gaze is so intense and _hungry_ that it makes Kiyoomi whine softly again.

“How many fires have ya started so far?”

“Th-three.”

“Are ya sure?” Kiyoomi moans loudly as Atsumu’s right hand leaves his chest to grip Kiyoomi’s right asscheek hard while the fingers of his left hand tighten in his hair again.

“Y-yes? I-I don’t…”

“I mean, yer right in the sense that ya’ve set off yer fire alarm three times. But that’s not how many _fires_ ya’ve started. And I know this because I was the one who had to put out all those candles in yer bedroom one by one.”

Kiyoomi gasps, understanding dawning on him. A small part of him wants to protest - wants to whine that it’s not _fair_ , because surely the candles don’t count as fires. But a much larger part of him _wants_ Atsumu to do it - to spank him for each candle as well as the three actual fires, even if both Atsumu’s logic and Kiyoomi’s own desire made no sense at all.

“So, Omi-kun. That’s 15 fires ya’ve started. Do ya think ya can handle 15 spanks for yer punishment?”

Kiyoomi nods, eyelashes fluttering as he tries to keep his eye’s trained on Atsumu’s even when the rush of arousal that courses through his body almost overcomes him.

“Of course, if it gets too much, just say the word and I’ll stop, and we can figure out where to go from there, ‘kay?” Atsumu’s left hand emerges from Kiyoomi’s shirt and he lightly cups Kiyoomi’s jaw, thumb brushing against his bottom lip. The gentle gesture sends a shiver through Kiyoomi, and he murmurs, feeling the slight friction from Atsumu’s thumb dragging his words, “I c’n take it. W’nna be a good boy f’r you.”

“Fuck, baby, yer already so good for me, lyin’ here all pretty like this.”

Atsumu’s low drawl makes Kiyoomi lose his mind just a little, and before he can stop himself, he grinds down on Atsumu’s thigh.

The sudden slap on his ass that follows makes Kiyoomi yelp. It’s not too strong, but the slight sting accompanied by a an explosion of pleasure shooting up his spine shocks him.

“What did I say about touching yerself, huh? Don’t go thinkin’ that it doesn’t count if ya don’t use yer hands.”

“‘m s’rry, ‘m s’rry!” Kiyoomi whines against his forearms, elbows too shaky to continue holding himself up.

“This is yer first warnin’, Omi-kun. You get two more, and then I’m leavin’ and you can figure out a way to get yerself off.”

“I-I’ll be good. Please…” Kiyoomi’s knees tremble as he raises his ass higher, trying to put as much distance as possible between his crotch and Atsumu’s lap. Atsumu’s left hand returns to its exploration under Kiyoomi’s shirt, and Kiyoomi shudders when Atsumu scrapes his nails over Kiyoomi’s abs, careful not to venture any lower than the waistband of Kiyoomi’s shorts.

“Oh, and one last thing, Omi-kun. I want ya to count as I spank ya. And I’m gonna take some pity on ya and say that that first one counts. So ya can start from two, ‘kay?” Atsumu rests his palm on the curve of Kiyoomi’s ass, and Kiyoomi has to stop himself from pressing back into it, desperate for any added modicum of friction.

It becomes less of a problem after Atsumu delivers the first proper spank to his ass.

“Mmhh!” Kiyoomi groans into the crook of his elbow. It’s quick, sharp, and Atsumu’s hand doesn’t linger afterwards, letting the concentrated sting shoot through Kiyoomi’s body.

“What was that?”

“T-Two!” Kiyoomi quickly supplies, remembering Atsumu’s command from earlier.

Atsumu’s palm lands on his ass again, in the same fashion as before, but this time solely on the right cheek.

“Thr-ee,” Kiyoomi moans, drawing out the word. This one is slightly harder than the last, but the shockwaves seem to rush straight to his crotch. His shorts had already been tight when he’d squeezed himself into them, but now his cock has swelled so much that it’s getting more and more painful being trapped within the confines of the constrictive, unyielding fabric.

It’s also strangely exciting.

The fourth spank lands evenly across both asscheeks, though it hits slightly lower than the others, with the edge of Atsumu’s pinkie catching the tops of Kiyoomi’s thigh. This time, Atsumu lets his hand linger, rubbing slow circles over the area of impact.

“Fo-ur,” Kiyoomi doesn’t know whether he wants to flinch away from Atsumu’s hand, and risk brushing his cock against Atsumu’s lap again, or push back against it, bearing with the heated touch long enough to let his steady palm diffuse the sharp sting. In the end, he just keeps still, letting Atsumu continue his ministrations and preening at the thought that all Kiyoomi can do right now is take whatever Atsumu has to give him.

The next two spanks see Atsumu continue his trajectory downwards, so that the sixth spank is basically delivered to Kiyoomi’s thighs.

“F-five… six!”

Atsumu rubs up and down the backs of Kiyoomi’s thighs, slipping his thumb under the hem of his shorts on an upstroke.

And then his hand pauses.

“Yer not wearin’ underwear.” Atsumu’s voice is filled with mirth as well as a hint of something a little more ominous, and Kiyoomi shoves his face further into the couch in an effort to hide the blush he can feel spreading over his face again.

“Ya really are a little _slut_ , aren’t you?” Kiyoomi gasps at the insult, and then shouts as a another spank lands across the curve of his ass, the hardest one yet.

“Ahh-Seven!

The next two are just as forceful, and by the time he chokes out a strained “ _nine_ ”, he’s biting the skin on his forearm, a trickle of spit flowing out from the corner of his mouth. There are tears clumping his eyelashes, though he can no longer tell if they are from pain or from desperation for _more_.

“Are ya enjoyin’ this, Omi-kun?” Atsumu purrs as he runs his palm over Kiyoomi’s ass again, this time kneading the flesh gently and eliciting feeble moans from Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi realizes through the rush of endorphins clouding his head that Atsumu isn’t just asking Kiyoomi if he’s enjoying the spanking in order to tease him. He’s also giving Kiyoomi the chance to back out.

But Kiyoomi knows that at this point, he’s willing to get on his knees and beg Atsumu to continue if he were to stop.

“Fuu-ck… Atsu-mu,” Kiyoomi whimpers, syllables fragmented by little gasps of breath.

Kiyoomi feels the hand roaming over the curve of his asscheeks falter, and then Atsumu’s fingers stretch around his left cheek and squeezes so hard Kiyoomi wails. Part of it is because of the pain, but another part is because the outer edge of Atsumu’s pinkie is now dipping in-between Kiyoomi’s cheeks, rubbing against his hole through his skin-tight shorts.

“Ple-ease Atsumu…”

“Please what, Omi-kun?”

“Keep goin-g.” Kiyoomi’s voice breaks on the end of the word.

Atsumu obliges by raining down three hard smacks across his ass. He seems to be speeding up, getting a bit more impatient.

Kiyoomi revels in it as he cries out, “ten…el- _e-ven_ …twelve!” He can feel that the fabric on the front of his shorts is now soaked through with pre-cum. It should be gross, a damp sticky mess in a space that cramped, but it only turns Kiyoomi on even more, and he can’t wait for Atsumu to turn him over and see the wet spot, see that he’d done this to Kiyoomi.

Except… if Atsumu keeps rubbing his ass like this…

Kiyoomi didn’t notice when he had spread his legs more to allow Atsumu more access to where he wants his hand the most, but when the next hit lands, it catches the back of Kiyoomi’s balls.

“ _Unghh_ … _thirteen_!”

It _hurts_ , but it’s the only attention he’s had anywhere near his crotch this whole time, and he recoils from the impact even as he feels another splotch of pre-cum spurt across his lower abdomen.

Atsumu trails the back of his fingers, cooler than his palms, over Kiyoomi’s ass in a soothing gesture. But then he brushes against Kiyoomi’s balls again, this time _purposefully_ , and Kiyoomi shudders, eyes snapping open as he feels the start of a familiar twisting in his gut, tightening of his abs.

“A-Atsumu!”

Atsumu lifts his hand off Kiyoomi’s ass completely, no doubt catching the urgency in his voice.

Kiyoomi is left pushing his ass back against nothing, whimpering when he jerks his hips forward and humps into nothing but air as well. God, it’s humiliating, and Kiyoomi’s face burns as his hips spasm uncontrollably.

“Omi-kun, did ya nearly just cum?”

Kiyoomi’s voice comes out as a weak croak as he gasps for air. “P-please… please Atsumu, just _fuck me_.

“Oh but Omi-Omi, you still have two to go.”

Kiyoomi curves his spine and stretches his ass back, searching for Atsumu’s palm. “Please… just _hurry_.”

Kiyoomi hears a sharp intake of breath, and then finally, Atsumu delivers the last two spanks, one on each cheek. After the last spank, he scrapes his nails over Kiyoomi’s ass, and Kiyoomi nearly sobs, spit now smeared all over his chin and arm. Atsumu doesn’t let up, and he trails his nails between Kiyoomi’s asscheeks again.

Kiyoomi’s knees collapse, and he flops onto Atsumu’s lap, shaking as he tries to hold himself back from humping against Atsumu’s rock hard thighs.

“Flip over, Kiyoomi.”

“Hhnng?”

“Come on, get on yer back. Let me see yer pretty face.”

Kiyoomi lifts himself on shaky elbows and turns around, falling heavily onto his back.

Atsumu has to hold back a gasp when he sees the state that Kiyoomi is in. There’s a deep red flush covering his cheeks and spreading down his neck and chest. His dark curls are in a disarray, rogue strands matted together with sweat and sticking to his forehead. His lips have been bitten raw, and his chin is shiny with spit.

Atsumu is overwhelmed with an urge to swoop in and kiss him, but he sees Kiyoomi wince when his ass slides across the coarse fabric of the couch as he tries to sit up against the armrest. So Atsumu wriggles between Kiyoomi’s spread legs and pushes Kiyoomi’s thighs up so they’re resting against Atsumu’s knees, raising his ass slightly above the couch.

Atsumu cups Kiyoomi’s cheek softly as he murmurs, “Kiyoomi, ya did so well.”

Kiyoomi just makes a small whiny noise in response, wrapping his legs around Atsumu’s waist. His eyes are hooded, and his long dark eyelashes are clumped together with tears. But the insistent look he’s giving Atsumu is beyond clear.

“Please, Atsumu. Please fuck me, I’m so close.” He cants his hips for emphasis, and Atsumu looks down and sees the outline of Kiyoomi’s cock straining against the thin fabric of his shorts, a wet spot rapidly spreading at the tip. He looks back up at Kiyoomi’s face again, desperate, pleading.

And Atsumu finally kisses him, soft and slow in and effort to calm him down a bit, but also for Atsumu himself to savor the feeling of Kiyoomi’s delicate lips sliding against his own, the taste of Kiyoomi on his tongue. The moan Kiyoomi makes as he kisses him back shoots right to Atsumu’s cock, now straining against his pants that he’s yet to slide off with the rest of his suit.

And oh, how tempted Atsumu is to give in and thrust into Kiyoomi right then and there. But he’s come too far to just let up with the opportunity to mess with Kiyoomi a little more.

Atsumu breaks the kiss and smirks. “Patience, Omi-kun.” Then he trails his hands down Kiyoomi’s sides to rest on his hips, thumb slipping under the waistband of his shorts. He pauses, looks up at Kiyoomi for permission, and slides the shorts off with a low chuckle after Kiyoomi nods at him frantically.

Despite Kiyoomi’s hips wiggling desperately in his grip, Atsumu allows himself a brief moment to admire the view in front of him.

Kiyoomi’s cock is so hard it’s almost standing straight up, slanting only slightly from the weight of his impending orgasm. It’s pretty, the tip flushed a dark plum hue, twitching and glistening with smears of pre-cum.

It’s also big, but that’s not a problem for Atsumu as he leans down and takes it all into his throat with a single, persistent swallow.

Kiyoomi’s hands shoot up to his mouth in an effort to dampen the yelp that erupts from his throat, but Atsumu reaches up and pulls them back down again, holding them against Kiyoomi’s stomach. Atsumu then slowly slides back up Kiyoomi’s cock, hollowing his cheeks and running his tongue along the vein on the underside of the shaft. Pulling off with a small pop, Atsumu smirks. “Ya weren’t concerned about noise when ya set off yer fire alarm three times, so why start bein’ cautious now? I wanna hear all those beautiful noises yer makin’, so keep yer hands where I can see ‘em, ‘kay?”

Kiyoomi nods with a small whine, and Atsumu lets go of his wrists. Then he goes back to sucking Kiyoomi’s cock with renewed vigor, hollowing his cheeks on every upstroke and swirling his tongue around the head. He reaches up and massages Kiyoomi’s balls, remembering his reaction earlier when Atsumu had accidentally spanked him there.

And it’s not long before Kiyoomi starts making those breathy, desperate noises again. But this time, Atsumu doesn’t stop. And Kiyoomi rushes to bury his hands in Atsumu’s hair, trying to pull him off.

“W-wait, I don’t wanna cum yet…”

And Atsumu quickly pulls off of Kiyoomi’s cock to drawl out, fingers still dancing over the tip to keep him on the edge, “Don’t worry, Omi-Omi. I’m far from bein’ done with ya. This is just yer reward for takin’ yer punishment so well. Ya can go ahead and cum now, because I’m gonna get ya to do it again later with my cock buried in yer ass.”

And Atsumu barely has time to close his lips around Kiyoomi’s tip again before Kiyoomi cums with a loud sob, hips stuttering uncontrollably as ropes of cum splatter against the back of Atsumu’s throat. Atsumu swallows it all down, working him through it and giving the tip a final suck before popping off.

Atsumu sits up again, and is greeted with Kiyoomi staring at him through low-lidded eyes, lips parted and breath coming out in little gasps. The desperation in his eyes have softened a bit, but the want in them is far from gone.

“Fuck, Atsumu.”

“I will, I will. Just give me a second to catch my breath, will ya?”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes even as the corners of his mouth twitch up.

“Ya got condoms and lube?”

Kiyoomi’s expression shifts to annoyance as he mumbles, “Fuck, it’s all in the bedroom. Let me up and I’ll go grab them.”

“There’s no need for that.”

And without another word, Atsumu scoops Kiyoomi up in his arms and easily lifts him off the couch.

“Ahh! W-what are you doing?” Kiyoomi shrieks and immediately wraps his arms around Atsumu’s neck. But he really doesn’t need to, because Atsumu’s grip around his back and thighs are ironclad. As firefighters, they did have to keep in tip-top shape precisely for situations like these. Well, maybe not the _exact_ same situations, but the required skills remain the same. And Atsumu has had to practice carrying Bokuto during their training modules so many times that lifting Kiyoomi like this is a piece of cake.

Atsumu grins at the startled expression on Kiyoomi’s face as he answers, “Carryin’ ya to bed, of course.”

The orgasm flush on Kiyoomi’s cheeks that was starting to recede comes back in full force. “If you drop me I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“If I drop ya then there’s more than just my ass on the line,” Atsumu quips, then stands up on steady feet.

He navigates easily to Kiyoomi’s bedroom, already familiar with the layout of the apartment, and sets him down gently on the bed, all without breaking a sweat.

“Show-off,” Kiyoomi mutters.

“Yeah, but ya love it,” Atsumu smirks, swooping in between Kiyoomi’s open legs and brushing his knee over Kiyoomi’s once-again hardening cock. Kiyoomi moans as Atsumu kisses him again.

“You ruined all my candles.” Kiyoomi murmurs against Atsumu’s lips.

“I’ll get ya new ones.”

“Fine.”

“Ya know, ya oughta be a little more grateful for me savin’ yer life. Multiple times.”

“And ya oughta make good on yer promise earlier of makin’ me cum multiple times.”

Atsumu’s mouth drops open, indignant at hearing the way Kiyoomi mocks his accent.

“Ya know what, that’s it.” Atsumu grabs Kiyoomi’s thighs and pulls him down the bed so he’s lying flat on his back. He grins in satisfaction when Kiyoomi squeaks at the friction against his ass.

“I’m not gonna stand for this disrespect from ya any longer.”

“What, you gonna spank me again”

“No, I’m gonna fuck ya until nothin’s comin’ out of yer mouth other than ya beggin’ me to let ya cum again.”

That shuts Kiyoomi up, and Atsumu takes the chance to tear off his own clothes, throwing everything in a messy pile at the foot of the bed. Then he helps Kiyoomi out of his tank top, not missing the way Kiyoomi rakes his eyes over Atsumu’s body.

“Like what ya see?”

“It’s alright. I’ve seen better.”

“Hm. Somehow I doubt that.” Atsumu runs a finger up the side of Kiyoomi’s cock, already nearly completely hard again.

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes at him as a small gasp falls from his lips anyway. He must be sensitive after cumming. Atsumu considers using that to his advantage and teasing Kiyoomi a little more, but the twitch his own cock gives at the thought draws his attention back to how he’s been painfully hard from the moment he’d laid Kiyoomi over his lap and saw his ass stretching up towards him, begging him to spank him.

And Atsumu decides to take pity on them both.

At Kiyoomi’s direction, he reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out a packet of condom and a bottle of lube. He makes quick work of tearing open the foil package and rolling the condom over his cock, giving himself a few quick tugs in the process to relieve the pressure that’s been building for so long.

Kiyoomi watches him do it, biting his lip and lightly stroking his own cock.

Condom secured, Atsumu coats his fingers with a generous dollop of lube, and says, “Spread yer legs for me, Omi-kun.”

Kiyoomi obeys, and Atsumu settles between his legs. When he brushes the tip of his pointer finger over Kiyoomi’s hole, Kiyoomi gasps and shivers slightly. Atsumu grins at the reaction, rubbing small circles around the puckered skin until Kiyoomi’s whining low in his throat again and telling him to hurry up.

When Atsumu slowly starts to push his finger in, Kiyoomi makes a choked sob. Atsumu runs his free hand over Kiyoomi’s chest, brushing his fingers over Kiyoomi’s hard nipples as he starts to pump his finger in and out.

“M-more…” Kiyoomi gasps, fingers clenching tight in the bedsheets.

“One’s not enough for ya?” Atsumu smirks, maintaining the same pace.

“Quit _teasing_ and hurry up!”

Atsumu obliges by shoving in two more fingers at once, leaning over Kiyoomi to watch as his brows draw together at the sudden intrusion.

“Ya really are a little brat, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah, and you love it.” Kiyoomi gasps through gritted teeth, throwing Atsumu’s line from earlier back at him.

Atsumu grins salaciously, fucking Kiyoomi slowly with all three fingers. “Yeah. I really _fuckin_ ’ do.” On the expletive, Atsumu curves his fingers and presses into Kiyoomi’s prostate. Kiyoomi’s back arches off the bed as he gives a drawn-out moan.

Atsumu quickly withdraws his fingers though, leaving Kiyoomi clenching around nothing. He groans in frustration, and glares up at Atsumu, but Atsumu can tell that his defiance is wavering.

“Ya gonna beg for it yet?”

“Fuck you.”

Atsumu goes back to rubbing small circles around Kiyoomi’s rim, touch feather-light.

Eventually, Kiyoomi caves.

“Okay, okay! Fine! I’m sorry. _Please_ , just fuck me, Atsumu.”

Atsumu beams, drunk on self-satisfaction. “There ya go. All ya had to do was ask nicely.”

He grabs the lube and spreads it over his cock, never breaking eye contact with Kiyoomi. When he starts pushing into Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi’s hands come up to clutch at his shoulder blades. Atsumu takes the chance to lean down and kiss him as he slowly bottoms out.

Then Atsumu pauses for a moment, trying to keep his breathing steady as he waits for Kiyoomi to adjust.

It’s not long before Kiyoomi’s legs are wrapping around his waist again, pulling Atsumu in even closer as he clings to Atsumu with his whole body.

Atsumu’s heart does a weird flip at how intimate the gesture is, and he kisses Kiyoomi again, harder and deeper this time, as he slowly starts to move inside Kiyoomi.

Atsumu goes about it cautiously, trying to be mindful of how sore Kiyoomi’s ass must be, until Kiyoomi breaks the kiss and growls, “Why are you holding back? You weren’t when you had me over your knee spanking my ass. Do you want me to go set my kitchen on fire? Would that make you fuck me for real? Because I’ll fucking do it right now.”

And the pure conviction in Kiyoomi’s eyes is all the encouragement Atsumu needs.

He wraps his hands around Kiyoomi’s waist and lifts his hips, changing the angle slightly and targeting Kiyoomi’s prostate. And then he slams back into Kiyoomi, all traces of hesitancy gone. Kiyoomi’s nails dig into his back, and then scratches across them frantically as Atsumu starts fucking him so hard the bed creaks along with Kiyoomi’s moans spilling out from his throat in time with every thrust of Atsumu’s hips.

“Aa…aa…atsuu…”

Atsumu groans at the way Kiyoomi whimpers around his name, pupils completely shot and tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck, Kiyoomi. Yer fuckin’ gorgeous like this.”

Atsumu gasps lowly when he feels Kiyoomi _clench_ around him.

So praise gets him going as much as degradation, then.

“Yer so good for me, Omi-kun. Takin’ my cock so well in yer tight little ass.”

“ _F-fuck_ , Atsumu.”

“Are ya enjoyin’ this? Gettin’ fucked for bein’ such a good little slut?”

“ _Ye-es_ , fuck!”

Kiyoomi almost screams when Atsumu wraps a hand around his leaking cock. And then his jaw slackens as Atsumu starts pumping his fist rapidly over the tip.

Atsumu works fast, feeling his own orgasm start to build at the pit of his stomach.

“Are ya gonna cum for me, Omi-kun? Ya gonna cum on my big fat cock?”

Kiyoomi’s whole body is trembling, and when he doesn’t answer Atsumu’s question, Atsumu slows his hand on Kiyoomi’s cock.

“ _Y-yes_! Please, yes! _Fuck_ , I’m so close, please make me cum, Atsumu-u!”

Atsumu’s hand speeds up again as he pounds into Kiyoomi even harder, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm, intent on seeing the moment Kiyoomi falls apart under him.

And when Kiyoomi finally wails sharply, eyes squeezing shut and ass clenching almost unbearably tightly around Atsumu as he spills over Atsumu’s fist, Atsumu finally lets go and shoots into the condom, thrusting in deep as his cock pulsates around the overwhelming heat that is Kiyoomi.

And then they just lie there, practically fused into one as they slowly grind against each other, shuddering through the aftershocks of their orgasms.

“Fu-uuck…” Atsumu groans when he finally pulls out. He quickly tugs off the condom, knots it, and tosses it in a trashcan beside the bed. Then, he crawls back up to where Kiyoomi is still trying to catch his breath. His limbs are splayed out, and his hair is a tousled mess. Atsumu smiles and kisses his lips softly.

“So now you’re Mr. Nice Guy again.” Kiyoomi murmurs, cracking an eye open to smirk at Atsumu.

“Hey, I’m always a nice guy. Yer the one who keeps provokin’ me.”

“Didn’t know I had such a powerful effect on you.”

“Says the guy who killed his houseplant just to get in my pants.”

“It wasn’t a real houseplant.”

“Still.”

Atsumu falls on his back next to Kiyoomi, arms too tired to hold himself up any longer.

“Can I see yer phone?”

“Why?”

“I’m giving ya my number. So that next time ya wanna see me, ya can just call me instead of startin’ another fuckin’ fire.”

“Next time, huh?”

Atsumu turns to Kiyoomi to find that he’s already looking straight at him, smiling softly with a glint in his eye.

“Mmhm. But really, Omi-kun, yer gonna have to start taking fire safety a lot more seriously. Especially if yer gonna be datin’ a firefighter.”

““ _Dating,_ ” huh? You don’t even know me. I could be an arsonist for all you know.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at puttin’ out fires. So I guess in the end it all works out.”

**Author's Note:**

> i lol’d so many times writing this. this is seriously just the most over the top self-indulgent thing i’ve ever written and i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it. 
> 
> absolutely no intent to disrespect! firefighters deserve the world <3
> 
> and yes i’m pushing this chaotic aries kiyoomi agenda whAT ABOUT IT


End file.
